


Evil Plans

by heelnev



Series: The King and the Prince [4]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: But still very cute, Love Confessions, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Room, and by extension, mustafa is a cheeky bastard, nev worries a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 11:40:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12107943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heelnev/pseuds/heelnev
Summary: Thanks to what he's convinced is an elaborate scheme set up by the Prince, Neville lands himself in a situation where he has no choice but to come clean.





	Evil Plans

**Author's Note:**

> HHHHHH this is it, the final part of the series!!! I hope you enjoy it!!

Whenever Neville was pressed up against Mustafa during one of their matches, he felt fine. He was doing his job, after all -- he was being paid to ground his opponents and make them submit to him. He didn't have time to dwell on silly things like his feelings. He had a match to win, a paycheck to collect, and a reputation to uphold.

Now that he's pressed against him outside of the ring, however, he feels much, _much_  different.

Neville was convinced that the man responsible for the situation he's currently in, fucking _Gallagher_ , knew all too well what he was doing. He knew that Neville had complicated feelings regarding Mustafa, which is why he suggested that himself, Neville, Mustafa, and Cedric all carpool to the next town together, with Neville and Mustafa oh so _conveniently_  sitting in the tightly packed back seat together. _Yes, I'm **sure** he only wanted to do this because he wanted to 'be more green'._ Neville huffed to himself. _He's fucking with me all because he can't stand that he lost that stupid drinking contest... Sore loser._

The ride was mostly silent, all of Jack's attempts to start a conversation quickly fizzling out whenever Neville would make an off color comment in response. Neville was in no mood to talk. He was too busy trying to distract himself by thinking of literally anything else but Mustafa's knee brushing up against his own. Neville would nearly jump out of his skin every time they made contact, glaring in his direction whenever Mustafa would look at him quizzically.  
  
And then there would be times when Mustafa's hand would 'accidentally' touch his thigh -- or, at least, Neville didn't _think_  it was an accident. There was no way he didn't know what he was doing. Mustafa kept his phone resting on his own thigh for most of the ride and would just so happen to accidentally graze his fingers along the fabric of Neville's pants whenever he reached for it. Neville was approximately thirty seconds away from jumping out of the car at the next red light and running all the way to the next location. Anything would be better than this torture.

He breathed a sigh of relief when they at last pulled up to a motel, Neville quickly scrambling to get out of the car and collect his things from the trunk. He could hear Jack was talking to the others -- something about going to make sure there were still some rooms available. After the bullshit that he'd just been through, the last thing he wanted was to have to pile back in that uncomfortable car and damn near get a fucking boner all because a certain Prince was incapable of keeping his hands to himself.

Neville was leaning back against the car, his arms crossed as he waited for Jack to make his return. In the meantime, Cedric and Mustafa were making conversation, animatedly discussing the events of that night's show. _How can they still have so much energy? It's too damn late at night for this._ Neville sighed. Christ, even in the dimly lit parking lot, Neville could still make out Mustafa's annoyingly white smile... He forced himself to look away from him.

He finally decided to join in on the conversation once Jack had come back, greeting him with a smart comment about how he took so long that he may as well have hooked up with the receptionist. This comment was pointedly ignored, much to Neville's chagrin, and things only seemed to get even worse for him from there -- it turned out that there were only two rooms open, which meant that they were going to have to share. Normally, Neville wouldn't have had a problem with this, as he'd shared rooms with people while on the road before.

It was the fact that Cedric volunteered to room with Jack that caused Neville's eyes to widen.

"Hold on, hold on, so you two are just going to leave me here?! With _him_?!" Neville hadn't recovered from the initial shock until after Jack and Cedric were on their way to their room, and he was left alone in the parking lot with his little roommate for the evening. Slowly, Neville's head turned, and he locked eyes with an almost proud looking Mustafa. _Don't even tell me that this bastard planned this..._

"Come on, King, it'll be fine." Mustafa led him over to the entrance to the motel, and Neville reluctantly followed, bags in tow, cursing himself and his awful fucking luck. _It's okay, you've dealt with worse before... You're a **King** , for fuck's sake. Don't let this peasant ruin your evening... again._

After checking in, Neville walked alongside him until they reached their room -- 104 -- and he dropped his bag and watched as Mustafa struggled to get the door unlocked. "Any day now, Ali," he commented. "It's only a card key. It's not that complicated."

"Nice to see that despite being exhausted you can still find time to be a smartass," Mustafa replied, raising his eyebrows at Neville once he finally got the door opened. Neville allowed him to enter first, feeling his stomach drop when he noticed that Mustafa's eyes had grown wide.

"What? What's your problem? You finally realize that you're not on my level?"

"Uh, no..."

"Then what--" Neville pushed him out of the way and spotted what he was looking at, his own eyes going wide.

There was only one bed.

_Fuck. Me._

Without saying another word, Neville snatched his bag up from the floor and turned to walk away, heading in the direction of the lobby. "Hey, King, where're you going?" Mustafa asked. Neville didn't even have to look at him to know he was smiling.

"Going to sleep out in the parking lot. If you need me -- and I really hope you don't -- I'll be curled up in the backseat."

"Oh, stop that." Mustafa grabbed him by the arm, tugging him back and pushing him towards the room. "There's no need to worry. I don't bite." He leaned in to speak in his ear. "Though I _can_ if you really want me to."

"Oh, God, _shut up_..." Neville rolled his eyes, hoping to God that Mustafa couldn't tell just how hard his heart was pounding.

Neville's fists clench when he heard the door shut and lock behind him, and he placed his bag down, sitting at the foot of the bed and staring at the floor. He was ever aware of the fact that Mustafa was staring at him, and he took a deep breath, working up the nerve to look at him again. "Why are you doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"You're standing there, eyeing me up. You're freaking me out."

"My bad." Mustafa shoved his hands in his pockets. "Didn't realize it was illegal to look at you."

"Well, it is." Neville quickly stood up. "I need to get ready for bed. If I find out that you looked through my stuff while I was gone, I'm kicking your ass out of this room."

"Yes, because that's _exactly_ what I was going to do the moment you left." Mustafa placed his own bag down on the bed and began to dig around inside of it. "King, I have more important things to worry about than whatever it is that you're hiding from me. You don't have to worry."

Neville looked at him warily, still not convinced, but he left his bag behind when he went to the bathroom after taking out his clothes and whatever he needed to wash up before bed. He quickly closed the door and leaned back against it, slowly letting out a deep sigh through his nose. They had only been alone for around ten or fifteen minutes, and already Mustafa was screwing with him.

_What the hell was that comment about biting earlier?_ Neville wondered as he nervously brushed his teeth. _What was he thinking, saying something like that to his King? Did he think I was going to have a positive response?_ He shook his head. Then again, now that he thought about it he _did_ have a positive response -- a _physical_ one, at that. He couldn't just let Mustafa know about that now, could he?

_Just ignore him for the rest of the night._ Neville undressed himself and slid on the pair of basketball shorts that he usually wore to bed, running his hands over the smooth fabric. _You managed to ignore his bullshit for months. You can do it again for one more night._

Neville gave himself one last pep talk in the mirror before he left the bathroom, halting in his tracks when he noticed that Mustafa was still in the process of getting changed. "Are you serious..." He muttered, turning away. The image of his bare back was burned into his mind, and he chewed on his lip. It was annoying -- how many times had the two of them changed in front of each other while at work? They did it all the time, and yet it never fucked with Neville this much until he realized that he had this stupid crush on him. _I swear, I'm gonna beat the shit out of Gallagher the first chance I--_

"King--"

"What?!" Neville suddenly jumped when he felt Mustafa's hand on his bicep, and he swatted him away, praying that Mustafa didn't notice the goosebumps that were left behind on his arm as a result of his touch.

"Are you okay? You've been staring off into space for a little while now." Mustafa's head was cocked to the side.

"Oh, wouldn't you like to know..." He sneered, pushing past him and lying on the bed. "It's none of your business. Move along."

"If you say so... Also, do you always sleep shirtless?" He asked. "Or is that only because you're sleeping with me tonight? I feel so privileged to sleep alongside the King's abs tonight."

"Get lost." Neville tensed, waiting until Mustafa had gone into the bathroom before letting out a soft, frustrated groan.

Mustafa had to know what he was doing. Everything that had happened between the two of them that night had to have been calculated -- the touching of Neville's thigh, that biting comment, waiting until he knew that Neville was definitely going to see him to take his shirt off... Mustafa had planned this from the very beginning. What he was hoping to do now that he had Neville all to himself was a mystery, and Neville would be damned before he let him continue to get away with it even more than he already had.

Neville stood up from the bed, pacing the room and waiting for Mustafa to come out. He wore a frustrated expression, the excruciating few minutes that he had to wait feeling like hours. _Let's go, Prince... Your time as the mastermind is up..._

"What are you doing back up?" Neville looked in the direction of the bathroom when he heard Mustafa's voice, and he started towards him.

"Tell me what's going on, Ali. Right now," he demanded.

"Woah, woah, take it easy." Mustafa took a few steps back. "There's nothing going on."

"Oh, bullshit. You've been deliberately fucking with me this entire night, and I want to know just what the hell you're trying to do."

"I'm only teasing! There's no need to get this riled up."

"Ah, except there _i_ _s_  a need for me to get this riled up." Neville began to pace the room again, still glaring in Mustafa's direction. "A peasant such as yourself really thinks that he can get away with messing with the King's head. Well, you can't."

"Please explain to me how I've been screwing with you. I'm genuinely clueless."

"You've been fucking with me because..." Neville stopped. He realized that there was no other way to explain the situation without revealing his feelings. If he was going to go any further, he needed to come clean, though he wasn't anywhere _near_  ready to confess in that moment.

"King? You're zoning out again," Mustafa pointed out.

"Because..." _Christ, now isn't the time to be getting tongue tied! Just fucking say it already!_ "Because you know I..." Neville lowered his voice so that it was just above a whisper. "...ke you..."

"What was that?" His brow furrowed. "I didn't hear what you said there."

"What, can you not hear? I said it clear as day."

"King, you haven't explained a damn thing to me! How am I supposed to make things better between us if you won't even be upfront about what's wrong?" Neville didn't respond, so Mustafa walked towards him, stopping when their faces were only a few inches apart. " _Neville_ , just say it."

"It's because you know I fucking like you!!" Neville blurted out, the shocked look on Mustafa's face making him feel like he'd just made a mistake. _No taking it back now..._ "There, are you happy? Are you happy now, _Mustafa_ , since we're suddenly so keen on referring to each other by our actual names?"

"I, u-uh... Wow, I didn't expect you to come out with it like that." Mustafa's face was bright red. "You think that I somehow... organized this whole thing to mess with you, all because I knew you had a crush on me?"

"Didn't you? This whole thing wouldn't make sense otherwise. You had to have planned this."

"I mean..." He scratched at the back of his neck. "It's true that I told Jack and Cedric earlier that I wanted to share a room with you tonight if possible, but I didn't do it because I wanted to hurt you or anything. I only did it because I wanted to help you."

"Help?" Neville repeated. "You think that fucking with my emotions is somehow _h_ _elping_  me?"

"I wanted to give you a space to confess, if you wanted to. Any other time we've spoken has been in a public place like the locker room. I figured that if you and I finally had some alone time, maybe you'd want to speak up, and you definitely did." Mustafa laughed nervously. "That's all I did though. I planned us staying in the same room, but anything else that I did was a coincidence. I swear."

"I'm sure it was, Ali..." Neville breathed. Now that the truth was out there, he felt a little relieved, but he was mostly anxious. Mustafa knew the whole time that he liked him, but did he return the feelings at all? Or was he only going along with it just so that Neville wouldn't feel bad? All of these questions swirling around in his mind caused Neville to feel just as nervous has he had been before he confessed.

"How many times are you gonna zone out in front of me?" Mustafa snapped him out of his little trance. "Why do you--"

Before he could finish talking, Neville had grabbed hold of either side of his face, pulling him in for a kiss. Neville miscalculated a little bit, however, and ended up kissing the corner of his mouth, pulling away just as quickly as he pulled him in.

"Jesus Christ, I can't believe I fucked that up..." Neville growled. It was now _his_  turn to blush, and he wasn't happy about it. "Listen, just... forget that this whole thing ever happened, okay?" Neville began to make his way towards the bed when Mustafa put a hand on his shoulder, spinning him around. "I thought I said to move on--"

Mustafa placed a finger on Neville's lips to silence him and, without saying another word, kissed him properly. Neville breathed in sharply through his nose, his heart feeling like it was about to burst at any moment, and his eyes slowly slid shut as he returned the kiss, his arms wrapping around his waist and holding him closer.  _Jesus Christ... Jesus **Christ**..._

After a few seconds had gone by, they pulled away, Mustafa chuckling at the uncharacteristically flustered look on Neville's face. "You good, King?" He asked, beaming at him.

Neville blinked at him for a moment before nodding, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he said. "Yeah... Yeah, I'm fine, Prince."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading this whole thing!! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I'll definitely be sure to write more for this ship in the future!!


End file.
